


If You Want a Job Done Right...

by Word_Devourer



Series: Kwamis [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: #SaveNooroo, Annoying Hawkmoth, Besides cheese, Early Season 2 Spoilers, Gabriel Agreste: Human Trashman, Gen, Heist, I'm sorry you had to deal with this Nooroo, Miniature Heist, Nooroo is traumatized, One-Shot, Plagg Knows, Plagg goes ham, Plagg secretly cares about things, Scary Plagg, Serious Plagg, Sort Of, The Kwami of Distraction, defeating Hawkmoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Devourer/pseuds/Word_Devourer
Summary: Plagg knows why Gabriel Agreste never has time for his son.  Plagg knows the true identity of Paris' resident supervillain.  Unfortunately, if he tells anyone, Adrien will have even less family than he had before, and that cannot be allowed to happen.  Plagg has to take out Hawkmoth, but leave Gabriel Agreste standing, and he has to do it alone.Fortunately, he might know just the way to make his dream a reality.





	If You Want a Job Done Right...

**Author's Note:**

> Though it doesn't matter much for plot purposes, this is set after Sandboy, where we notably discovered a bit more of how awful Hawkmoth is to Nooroo, as well as how much Plagg cares about his missing friend.

So.  He knew the deepest secret of the worst man in Paris.  It had taken some attention, and some observation, but he knew it.

_Hawkmoth._   Gabriel Agreste was _Hawkmoth_.  There was no denying it, when he’d been talking to someone out of sight, named ‘Nooroo.’  How many Nooroos were there in Paris?  How many of them responded in that meek, terrified tone?

It was making Plagg’s blood boil to think about it.  Adrien didn’t deserve to deal with this man, but Nooroo?  Nooroo had it even worse.  He _knew_ that Gabriel Agreste was a villain, had to be _complicit_ in it, doubtless was trying his best to fight back, despite…  Despite being the softest kwami Plagg had ever known.  Plagg tried to get a grip on himself.  He could feel the destruction crackling through him, fit to destroy…  Well, destroy something small; even at his angriest he couldn’t afford to use anything _like_ his full power, especially if he wanted the mansion standing after he was done.

He knew _why_ Gabriel Agreste was never there for his son.  He could…  No, no, wait.  Looking at it the other way, he knew _Hawkmoth’s_ secret identity.  All he had to do was share that, and they could take him _down_.  He could single-handedly be the reason this whole thing ended.

He grimaced, and looked over at Adrien, who was typing away at a school project, utterly unaware of what was going on. If he told anyone, Adrien would lose what was left of his family.  He’d have to fight his own father, and however awful Gabriel was, Adrien still cared about him.

The burning was gone now, with the only sign being a small hole in Adrien’s blanket.

Was that worth it?  He could justify it, logically, but the problem was…  He sighed.

The problem was that he _cared_ about Adrien.  He was a _good_ kid, and an even better Chat Noir.  He’d put up with his own irrational distaste for the smell of Camembert, and had kept him well-stocked, which had taken some significant work.  And, yeah, he was an _idiot,_ and a romantic to boot, but how was Plagg supposed to tell him that his own father was the villain of all Paris?  He’d been unwilling enough to hear that Gabriel was just a bad man by himself.  Either he’d go into denial, or it’d break his heart.

So…  What if he didn’t tell him?

He’d let Paris continue to be terrorized by villains.

Unless he didn’t.

Plagg slowly began to grin.  Who said he couldn’t do much by himself?

Kwamis didn’t show up on cameras.  Kwamis didn’t care about locks.  Kwamis could slide through solid matter without too much issue.  Kwamis were _extremely_ hard to pin down if you didn’t have their Miraculous, and Old Gabe didn’t have the Black Cat ring, so even if he was captured, he’d have quite a time holding on to him.  He just had the Butterfly Miraculous.

Now, what would happen if, theoretically, he didn’t even have _that_?

How would he be a supervillain without his powers?  Better yet, if he couldn’t be a supervillain, he might actually pay the slightest bit of attention to his remaining family.

He couldn’t tell the other Kwamis about this, though.  It would get back to Adrien.  Even Tikki would just _have_ to tell Marinette where she was going, and if Marinette knew, she’d end up _trying_ something.  Besides, he was the only one on-site, which meant he couldn’t get caught so far from where he needed to be, in case of emergency.

He’d do it alone.  He had to.  He was going to _steal_ the Butterfly Miraculous back.

\--

For Gabriel Agreste, things started slowly, and days later.

It was his workstation, where one of his pens was the wrong way around when he came back.  He hadn’t even blinked, just assumed he’d turned it a different way from usual.

It was a security camera that kept ending up just a _hair_ off from where it was supposed to be.  By the end of two days, it was almost 30 degrees from where it had started.

It was a reminder to talk to Adrien, on his calendar, that he had _not_ requested there.  Nathalie maintained that she’d written no such thing, and while she’d seemed sincere, he’d gotten the impression that she’d have _liked_ to have put it there.  He _had_ ended up talking to Adrien that day, the notice prompting one of his randomly scheduled checks, just to make sure he wasn’t slacking on his studies.

Then, things had started to get worse.

Names in his contacts had been switched.  Half a dozen designs he’d been working on had been _deleted_ , and the recycle bin was _empty_.  He’d had the computer checked for any indication of hacking, but nothing came up.  He’d stopped leaving it open when he walked away.

His clothes had strange holes in them.  The first ones had been explainable, but things were _falling apart_ after only a few days.

In short, it felt like he was _cursed._

\--

It wasn’t going to be easy.  The problem was, Gabe seemed entirely aware of how tenuous his hold on the Miraculous was.  Every night, he fell asleep with it clenched in his hand, and even when he turned over, he kept his hand closed.  Worse, he was a light sleeper, by all appearances, which meant that Plagg couldn’t just pry his hand open and take it.  The other issue was that a single failure would make it obvious what was happening.  Gabe would start trying to capture him back, and Plagg would never be able to be sure that the man was actually _asleep,_ not to mention that he’d already suspected Adrien’s secret identity _._

Options?  He showered without _wearing_ it (which Plagg wished he hadn’t had reason to learn) but still brought it with him into the shower, which made it a tricky target. Plagg could, of course, take it then, and hope that his sudden appearance would be shocking enough to give him time to escape untouched.  It would give him a significant advantage, in that if he could escape the bathroom, he’d be almost entirely free, since he doubted that Gabe would run around his house naked, even for a Miraculous.  Of course, if he did that (The stealing it while he was in the shower, that was), he’d have a ways to go, and a Miraculous was _heavy_ to a kwami, to the point that unless there was a window open, he couldn’t even guarantee that he’d be able to escape the house before Gabe got dressed and came after him.

So, nix the shower.  When he was asleep seemed the best time, but how?

The answer he’d come to, after a bit, was that he needed to make it impossible for Gabe to pay attention to the Miraculous properly.  _Distraction_.  Confuse him, annoy him, anything, until his mind was frayed and ragged.  Eventually, he’d slip up, and forget something crucial.

Which was what Plagg had been doing.  More to the point, it was what he was going to _continue_ doing, and harder.

\--

Gabriel Agreste was _not_ a superstitious man.  He accepted what he had reason to accept, (which, to be fair, included many things people would have only recently considered ridiculous) and what he _had_ reason to accept was that this was not natural.  Things didn’t _happen_ like this.

Doors kept opening around the house, even when he _knew_ there was nobody near them.  He left his tablet to charge and came back to find it unplugged.  The laces from one of his shoes went entirely _missing_ one day, and a lace from another shoe every day.  His clothes were slowly becoming more ragged, despite his best efforts.  The screen at his workstation had a few dead pixels that he couldn’t account for.

He attempted to surreptitiously check on Adrien, and he wasn’t quite sure whether it was to see if he was facing the same issues, or to see if he was the source.  It seemed to be neither.  He’d interrogated Nooroo, but it had been a dead end; he was as confused by the situation as Gabriel himself was.

When he finally began to get the impression he was being watched, he wasn’t sure if it was paranoia, or some sixth sense.  It didn’t matter.  All that mattered was that his life seemed to be coming apart at the seams.  He tried watching, hoping to see something in the _process_ of decaying, but it never happened while he was looking.  He had likely looked slightly foolish walking away from his room and immediately returning, in the vain hope of catching a perpetrator.

As the intrusions into his life became more pervasive, and more intense, he could _feel_ his ability draining.  He was distracted, and sometimes, when his pen went missing, he wondered whether it had been stolen, or whether he had lost it himself.  When he was Hawkmoth, he could forget about everything, but the problem was, when he came back, something was always wrong, and usually worse than usual.

He couldn’t even tell if the dark flicker he kept seeing in the corner of his eye was real or imagined.

\--

Plagg wouldn’t say he was exactly _happy;_ after all, every little annoyance he managed to perpetrate was a sign that he still hadn’t recovered Nooroo, and, relatedly, that Hawkmoth was still at large (although, there _had_ been less villains recently).  And, of course, he couldn’t sleep as much as usual, because he had to be up late to, let’s say, steal some shoelaces.  Adrien had begun to notice, too, and seemed to be worried for him (as well as his father, even though Gabe seemed to be doing his level best to avoid Adrien even more than usual).

So, no, he wasn’t happy.  There was, however, a certain grim satisfaction that he took from his work.  Managing to make old Gabey wear the brooch _inside_ his shirt because he was out of ties to cover it with had been particularly satisfying.  Leaving Hawkmoth halfway incapacitated simply because he couldn’t afford the time to _be_ Hawkmoth was the kind of achievement he rarely managed without being transformed.

And it was paying dividends.

Twice, now, Gabe had almost left the Butterfly Miraculous unattended, only remembering to take it with him a second later.  Had Plagg been less cautious, he’d have been caught red-handed.

Sooner or later, he was going to forget entirely.  He would fall asleep with the Miraculous on his dresser, where he left it while changing to sleeping clothes. (Plagg would admit, had anyone known to ask, that he’d seen entirely _too much_ of Gabriel Agreste for comfort.  Just the price of doing business.)

…

Gabe was an early sleeper, which put Plagg in the lucky position of being able to sneak away from Adrien while he was doing work, and only come back after he’d already made sure tonight was a bad night for a theft.

Except…

The room was nearly black, and Plagg was in the darkest corner of it, which meant that he was effectively invisible. Gabe was obviously tired. He’d put down the Miraculous, and absently shrugged on the robe he wore to sleep in (looked warm, cushy, and actually not too ragged yet.  Plagg’d probably have to fix that tomorrow.)

Blinking away the sleep that was evident on his face, he tied the cord tight at his waist, and using only his right hand, got into bed.  His left hand, meanwhile, was still wrapped tight around the belt.  Plagg flicked his eyes to the dresser, where a brooch sat, untouched.

Gabe always slept with it in his left hand.  Tonight, though, he seemed to have forgotten exactly _what_ went in that hand.

Plagg could hardly breathe, trying not to pull him back to wakefulness.  A minute passed.  Two minutes.  Three.  Nathalie would be done for the day, by now.  Adrien would still be in his room, and with any luck, would stay there until everything was done.  The hallway was dark, so even if he opened the door…

He grinned.  Now, if Gabey-boy would just start _snoring_ like he usually did…

Another five minutes passed, and Gabe’s breathing steadied.  He was out.

Plagg edged away from the corner he’d hidden in.  Gabe didn’t move, just lying there with his hand clenched around a bit of cloth.

His breathing sounded unnaturally loud, as he slid up to the brooch.

He reached out a tiny hand, and…  That was Nooroo in there, no doubt about it.  He could feel the kwami almost _jump_ (Not that he had a body to jump with at the moment) at his presence.

He carefully lifted the brooch, heavier than it should have been (‘Should’ have been; it was weighed down with the entirety of Nooroo’s existence), and slowly drifted down the edge of the door.  He’d had time to plan while he’d waited, and the plan was…

He left the brooch, right where the door would open.  Then, it was up to the doorknob, the _real_ challenge.  He wrapped his arms onto it, and twisted with his whole body.  An arm slipped, then another, and then he managed to catch himself.  His eyes closed as he tried to…  To… Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the knob began to turn.  Kwamis didn’t get tired quite the same as most creatures, but, the way he was going, he could have done with another wedge of Camembert.

As the knob twisted, he tried, slowly, to _push_.  To his immense relief, the door swung.  A centimeter, maybe, and then one more.

Upside down, now, he could only guess that the latch was free from the jamb.  He slowly let the handle twist back, and heard the click to his side as the latch _didn’t_ slide neatly back into the hole.  With his whole body pressed up to the knob, it sounded uncomfortably loud.

He softly let the knob twist the rest of the way back, and, with a glance to confirm that Gabe was still asleep, slipped back down to the Miraculous.

Right.  Now, either this would be quiet, or it _wouldn’t_ , and he needed to be ready.  He slipped the brooch under an arm, and with the other, reached out to the door, and gently pushed.

Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  And then, with a sudden slip, the door _pulled_ , and he heard the click of the latch popping back out.  Not good, but as long as-

“Who is it?”

BAD. BAD. VERY BAD.

The door wasn’t open far enough for him to squeeze through yet.

BAD.  VERY, VERY BAD.

He heard Gabe jerk upright in his bed.  That would be him realizing that he didn’t have the Miraculous.  Plagg pulled, and, with the Miraculous under his arm, slipped out.

The hall was uncomfortably long.  Maybe 30 feet to the stairs.  That would have been fine by itself, but he was lugging a fundamental force under one arm, and that could slow _anyone_ down.  Well, any kwami, anyway.

MOVE.  MOVE, NOW.

He timed it out in his head.  He’d be getting up now. 25 feet to the stairs.  Then, he’d walk over to his desk, and check for- Plagg faintly registered the light from behind him.  Perfect, add a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, 15 feet, then there would be a second for him to check his desk, 10 feet.  About _half_ a second for him to realize it was gone, 5 feet, and then-

He just barely heard the door swing open.

Not quite there, not quite there.

The light flicked on, and he rounded the corner.  There was a bare instant he’d been in view.  Had Gabe seen him?

He pushed, trying to speed up, but there was the silence that didn’t sound like running feet.  Hopefully Gabe actually _wasn’t_ running, and it wasn’t just his slippers muffling his steps.

There _was_ a way out.  Not the front door, but if he could get to the-

Gabe was walking.  _Away._   That would be towards _Adrien_.  Fine, that was fine.  He’d be suspicious, but Adrien wouldn’t know anything.  Could be awkward later, but for now, there was a window in the atelier that Gabe always left open.  Why didn’t matter, right now, but if he could get to the room…

Yes.  Open.  If he could just _move_ fast enough to get there before… Not even much of a hurry at this point, since Gabe was talking to Adrien right now.

The time it took to cross the room seemed interminable, but finally, he was through, and out into open air.

Now, all he had to do- he sighed- was fly…

…

It was almost 15 minutes later, when Plagg, exhausted, slipped through a window.

\--

Master Fu was doing some light reading; a short collection of limericks a friend from the library had recommended.  He had to admit, they were pleasantly amusing.

“A drunk with a penchant to gamble / in a stupor forever did ramble / When he met with-

“Ahem!” came a grating voice, incredibly familiar.  Master Fu jolted upright.  Nobody should be in here but him and Wayzz right-

Plagg was standing on a table, bent almost double, but with a small...

Master Fu stood, suddenly.

“Plagg!” he said, and was looking for the right follow-up, when Plagg responded.

“I beat Hawkmoth,” he said, with a grin, and patted the… What must have been…

The gem glowed, and a small figure materialized in a purple glow.

Nooroo looked around, wide-eyed, and finally said, “You rescued us!”

Plagg straightened slightly.  “Us?”

Nooroo turned.  “Duusu?”

“Fu!  I need some cheese before I can deal with this,” said Plagg, and turned back to Nooroo.  “He has Duusu too?”

Nooroo nodded.  “I think he keeps her behind the painting of Emilie- his wife.”

“Yeah, I know who she is, and…”  Plagg stopped, and his eyes glazed over.

A book on Tibet, an old flier for a hotel, a load of old junk… Which had included a fan of colorful peacock feathers.  How had he missed that?  It had been right there.  He’d seen it enough times, over the millennia.

“Fu, I could really use some of that cheese right about now!” he called again, feeling himself begin to twitch, and knew if he didn't get it under control, he'd start sparking.  _That_ was where Duusu had gone.  He had gotten Nooroo out, but left another of his friends behind to suffer.

“We’ve got to go back.  He’ll just start using _her_ instead of you if we wait.”

Nooroo inhaled, and then nodded.

“It’s gonna be fine,” said Plagg, “it’s not like he has your Miraculous anymore.”

“Here,” said Fu, “it isn’t fresh, but it’s Camembert.”

Plagg downed it in a single bite.

“Blech.  You call that Camembert?"  He shook his head.  This was no time for cheese critique.  "Ready, Nooroo?”

Nooroo hesitated, and nodded again.

And they were gone.

Back to Agreste Manor.  Back to the atelier window.

The room was empty.

Neither of them said anything, opting instead to rush straight for the portrait.

First things first; pull the portrait open.  Well-oiled hinges made _that_ easy enough.  The lock, which barely took a second, and then...

Then…  There it was.

“Alright, let’s go!” said Plagg, hauling up on one end of the fan.

Nooroo paused for an uncomfortable second before joining him.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” he said, barely getting it off the ground.  Then, he saw Nooroo’s face.

Kwamis didn’t hyperventilate, as such, but Nooroo was making the attempt.

“We’ll be out of here in no time, c’mon!”

Nooroo half-heartedly began to pull with him, and Plagg would have sworn he was barely lifting.  Nooroo was shaking now, but they were making progress.  Over the workstation, good.  Over the table, a quarter, a third, a half.  Good, good.  They’d passed the table, now, and the window was so close he could feel the breeze.  Past that window, they were untouchable.  They were-

The door slammed open, and Plagg dove as Nooroo abruptly let go of his end of the fan.  There was a clink as he hit the ground.

There was a gasp from the door, and a quiet ‘No!’

He grabbed on to the Peafowl Miraculous and tried to hold its full weight.  It was no heavier than the Butterfly Miraculous, but far more cumbersome.

“Nooroo!” he heard Gabe call, “how did you leave the Miraculous!?”

“I…” began Nooroo, and stopped.  Even from so far below, Plagg could see him trembling.

And why,” he continued, his voice burning, “have you opened my _safe!?”_

Plagg began to get the slightest bit of altitude, and then the _lights_ came on.

Muffled footfalls on the tile, as Gabe walked.  The swing of the portrait.

A few more feet to the window.  He was close.

“Nooroo,” said Gabriel, softly, “where is the other Miraculous?”

“I…” said Nooroo, helplessly, “it’s… I… I don’t…”

_Right here,_ thought Plagg, with a grin touched by triumph, _almost out of your reach._

Now, if he could get some height, he could-

Gabe gasped, and Plagg didn’t even have to look to know he’d been spotted.

_“Another Kwami,”_ he said, “ _You.  Bring that here.”_

It was his _angry_ voice, the one he reserved for when Adrien tried to think for himself.  It was a voice that brooked no disagreement.  Plagg had heard enough of it to already be itching to disobey it.

He was at the sill. “How about _you_ go back to bed, old man,” he said, turning, “because I’ve had enough of this place for a lifetime.”  He hesitated, and added, “and _I’ve_ only been here for a few weeks.”

“So _you’re_ the one who’s taken it upon himself to harass me.”

“Yup,” he said, slipping back, “but good luck suing a kwami for harassment.”  And he was out, with the second Miraculous.

“Come _back_ here,” said Gabe, in that same tone of voice from a moment ago.

“Why!?” called back Plagg, looking through the window, where…

Where Nooroo was still hovering in place, seemingly frozen.

“Nooroo,” said Gabriel, ignoring the question, “come here.”

He didn’t wait, and began walking towards the kwami.  Who _still_ wasn’t moving.

Plagg looked down at the fan, then at the window, and then at the window above it.  He didn’t have to take it far.  Just far enough Gabe couldn’t find it quickly.  He pulled up with every bit of strength he had.

2 seconds.  All it took, with his greatest strength, was two seconds.

He laid the fan against the windowpane and _flew_ back in the lower window.

Gabe was close.

“Nooroo!” he called, and managed to wrap his arms around him before Gabriel did.  A wrench, and Nooroo slipped through the air, right to the window.  A hand wrapped around him.

“Get out!” he called, and was relieved to see Nooroo slowly drift his way out.

“ _You_ ,” growled Gabe.

“ _Me_ ,” said Plagg, twisting to face him, baring his teeth.  If Adrien hadn't been in the house, if he hadn't been in the middle of a city... Well, suffice to say the urge to use a Cataclysm and damn the consequences was strong.

“How did you find out who I am?”

“I followed the smell of tacky designs.”

Plagg groaned, as the fist tightened around him.

“Who are you?”

“Take a wild guess, Gabe.  What kwami looks like a black cat?”

His grip tightened again, but it was _worth it._

“Who sent you?”

“C’mon, do you really expect me to answer that?”

Kwamis didn’t technically _have_ to breathe, but he couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to.

“Nooroo acted like this, at first,” said Gabe, “it didn’t last.”

“Yeah, right” said Plagg.  “He ‘tried to fight you,’ probably by protesting while you did whatever you want.  Nooroo’s a big softie, and you had his Miraculous.” he let a tiny fraction of the rage out, feeling a fierce satisfaction at the way Gabe yelped and let go.

He flew to the man’s face, and planted a tiny paw on his cheek, letting their eyes meet.

“I’m not Nooroo,” he said, feeling the sizzle where his paw made contact.  “ _I_ am the kwami of destruction, and _you. Can’t. Scare. Me._ ”  He pushed, and Gabe staggered back.  He glided towards the window.  “You’re just lucky I’m feeling _generous_ tonight, or there wouldn't be a _you_ after this.”

"Or a Paris," he muttered, as he cleared the window.  He paused, to look at Nooroo.  He inhaled deeply, and then, with a slow breath out, let the energy go.  He was going to need a nap after this, he just knew it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and flew up to the next-story window.  Nooroo followed him, and with a bit more strength than earlier, helped him carry the Miraculous back to its rightful home.

\--

Adrien was oblivious, but he wasn’t _that_ oblivious.  He knew _something_ strange was happening.  Father had come to talk to him, late at night.  He’d seemed distressed by something, and had asked strange questions for the better part of half an hour.  It had felt like an interrogation, where neither of them knew how much the other knew, and couldn’t risk letting anything slip.  The problem was, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to know something _about_.

Then, when Father had left, and he’d still been sitting at his desk, he’d heard something downstairs, through his cracked door.  His father’s raised voice.  That had only lasted a few moments, and then everything had gone silent.  For a long time, minutes, everything had been quiet, and then, eventually, when he’d thought everything was over, he heard the door to his father’s room close.  He’d peeked out, and the lights downstairs were still on.

A short sneak later, and he’d found the safe behind the painting of his mother, left open.

He’d quietly closed it, and, shutting off the lights, returned to his room.

That was when he’d noticed Plagg was missing.

He hadn’t been able to call for him, for fear that his father might hear, and had stayed up late, worried, only for Plagg to slip in a window, some time after midnight.

“Plagg!”

“Hey, kid,” he said.

“Where were you?”

Plagg had straightened up, in midair, and grinned.

“Had some business to take care of.”

“What kind of business.”

Plagg had shrugged, and with that same cocky grin, said, “Taking care of Hawkmoth.”

Adrien had stopped.

“What?”

“Big pushover.  Won’t be hearing from him again.”

Adrien had laughed, “Alright, if you don’t want to tell me, just say, alright?  You’ve been going missing a lot lately, and I’m just a bit worried, okay?”

“I’m serious!  He’s done!”

“Alright, Plagg.  I believe you.”

“Good.  You should.”

Adrien had turned back to his schoolwork, and then, after a moment, had said  “It’s fine if you can’t tell me, alright?  I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

A long second had passed, and he’d felt a soft, warm pressure at the back of his neck.

“Plagg, you alright?”

“I…  Yeah, I’m fine.  I just didn’t...  Not everybody cares as much about their kwami as you do.”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Adrien, reaching a hand behind him and trying to scratch Plagg’s head, “you’re one of my best friends!”

A second, and then, “Plagg, are you crying?”

A muffled, “No…”

…

He’d known then that something strange was going on.

What he had _not_ expected was for Plagg to be telling the truth.  Days passed, and then weeks, but no more supervillains showed up.

He didn’t think to connect that, though, with his father’s appearance, when he finally showed up again, weeks later.  He couldn’t swear to it, but his hands were scarred, maybe even a bit shaky, and there was a tiny white mark on his right cheek that hadn’t been there before. Then, there was the fact that once he stopped hiding away, he seemed to show up slightly more often.  Every few days, he’d even show up to dinner.

Nino insisted that that was still poor parenting, but even he would admit two dinners in one week was better than none in three.

In short, life was looking up for Adrien, and Plagg seemed pleased as punch about it, even if he didn’t want to show it.  He’d even seemed more supportive of his interest in Ladybug, suggesting that he should find some way to arrange regular patrols with her (Though, to be fair, he maintained that he’d only said it because he was getting sick of Adrien worrying about how he might never see her again now that Hawkmoth was gone).

Maybe, if he was lucky, Master Fu would even let them tell each other their real identities, now that there was no Hawkmoth stopping them.  He just hoped she wasn’t disappointed to find out that her daring, dashing partner was the comparatively lame Adrien Agreste.

But that was a problem for later.

**Author's Note:**

> And there was a big kwami party, and probably a reveal at some point. It was good times, and while Gabriel was incensed by everything that happened, he eventually lands somewhere in the vicinity of decent father.
> 
> Edits made for canon compliance following Style Queen


End file.
